and you play me like a harp string
by grandpa garbage
Summary: (and it hurts so much I keep going back for more.)


squints this is from 2013

it was a wip of a Bigger Idea but i know ill never finish it. ive made multiple attempts but to no avail.

the writing style is different, i've gone through and edited it but still - it's different.

Len calls Rin, Rin Summer, because (mumbles).

* * *

 ** _and you play me like a harp string_**

(and it hurts so much I keep going back for more.)

.

We're sitting in the park on a Friday afternoon. Len's drunk with vodka from God-knows-where, puffing on his cigarette like a chimney.

I know something is up, because he usually goes through a fag faster when he's upset, but I don't want to ask. I have a feeling it's from the other day; he hasn't said much since Wednesday besides his rather ardent complaints about the 'depressingly lacklustre weather'.

I'm scratching the tops of my dust-covered flats in the sand of the playground, kicking it up into the air and listening to Len's deep, ragged breaths, thinking about how I'm probably going to get lung cancer from hanging around a smoker so much. Eventually, he releases this sigh and drops his butt onto the ground, stubbing the ember out with the tip of his sneaker.

He takes another swig of his vodka and says, "I'm sorry about the other day."

I look up at him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he repeats again, a little more throatily. He isn't looking in my direction – his slightly-glazed, crystalline blue eyes glaring at two children on the swing set nearby. "No, I was being a bitch to you and it doesn't give me any excuse to fuck off because I was having a shit day. I'm sorry for being an ass."

His words don't make much sense, but I pinpoint where he's aiming for. "Yeah," I say, "it's okay. I understand."

"No, you don't," he replies. "You don't have to act all empathetic and shit, Rin."

"But I _do_ ," I argue. I drop my toe into the sand so a cloud of dust flies up and swarms around our legs. It bugs me when Len thinks he knows everything. But he doesn't. He needs to learn that.

He finally looks at me, his expression stoic. "Miku killed herself that day."

"I know," I answer. "Kaito told me."

I don't elaborate on what else he said – about Len being a thick-headed douche who has a hard time trying to get his feelings across because he's still dealing with 'the death' of Miku, or about him liking me or whatever. I'm not sure still whether I believe it or not. I mean, what is there to believe? Len is completely screwed and confused and he even _admitted_ the alcohol and smoking had charred out all of his common sense – whatever that means. The thing is, what we do together doesn't mean anything; he doesn't actually have to feel anything for me to do it.

Len scoffs, smiling bitterly at the trees. He sips his drink. "That son of a bitch."

"You weren't in the mood to tell me that day what was wrong, anyway," I defend.

He shakes his head, twisting the bottle around between his hands. "Still doesn't give him an excuse to open that lard mouth of his and tell people random shit." He closes his eyes as a cool breeze sweeps through the area and he inhales deeply, like the air itself is an actual cigarette. Then he takes another swig of the bottle, to find it's nearly empty.

"First of all, he fucks my girlfriend and gets her pregnant so she kills herself, and then he continues to ruin my own life by saying things people don't need to know nothing about."

"Oh, so I was supposed to go through the rest of the day thinking that it was my fault you got pissed and walked off," I snap, "until you decided to tell me you were having a relapse since you're still mourning a girl who died a year ago."

I don't realise how bitchy that sounds until it leaves my mouth. My skin turns to the shade of rhubarb as Len looks over at me in my peripheral vision.

It's silent for a few moments and I'm working myself into a panic. I'm worried I just screwed everything up.

I don't want Len to hate me or anything, I'm just upset – it always suits him when we do things together, never when _I_ want to do them – and he always acts so selfish, it irks me. I love Len; I love him, but sometimes he can be such a downright asshole it makes me question myself as to _why_ I actually like him so much.

Finally, Len mutters, "Yes, yes you were – because you weren't the one who had a girlfriend whom committed suicide since her life sucked and she was guilty from cheating on you with your best friend and getting knocked up. All the while you didn't realise _any_ of that fucking shit was happening, so you couldn't do anything about it – technically, she _died_ because you were being so ignorant. Yes, Rin, you weren't supposed to fucking know anything, alright? Because you weren't the one who had the chance to save someone's life, but totally fucked it up."

I can't say anything for a while. It's as if someone has punched a hole through my chest. He's right. I can't say anything about how he is, or how he acts, because I've only just recently walked into his life – and it's not like I can change it all according to how I feel.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Don't need to fucking apologise," he grumbles. "Won't make me any more pleasant, Rin Summer." He pulls out another cigarette and lights it, turning our surroundings hazy once again.

Len doesn't say anything else after that, even when I'm unable to sum up a decent enough reply ten minutes later, so I'm guessing he's definitely pissed at me for sure.

I close my eyes and try to swallow, but there's this lump in my throat and it won't go away. Love indeed sucks – both for Len and for me. I don't get why I had to fall for a person like him. I don't get why he even talks to me if he's so upset about his girlfriend croaking it, considering I was the 'new student' who filled the free spot that once belonged to her.

For a moment, I'm frustrated, but eventually it fizzes out into sadness and I want to cry. But it's stupid to cry in front of Len, since I was the one who decided to speak before I thought. I don't think it'd put him in a better mood, either. So I slip off the log we're sitting on in the most infinitesimal way possible and pat down my skirt, and start to trudge off, trying my best to hold back the tears until I'm far away enough that Len can't see me crying.

As I set off, Len reaches out and grabs hold of my wrist, and doesn't let go of it.

"Look at me, Rin Summer," he says. It's as if he knows I'm on the brink of bawling or whatever, like it's a sixth sense. When I refuse to look at him, he presses in a firmer tone, "Look at me."

So I do. I look at him and into his dark eyes, to be swallowed whole by his gaze. It's always like this. I'm always looking into those eyes and seeing someone entirely different to his true personality, and it's always leading me astray. I don't want to love Len. I don't want to love someone as messed up and depressed as him. But I do.

I wonder if Miku felt like this when she looked at him – when maybe she summed up all that courage to tell him she was cheating on him, but it was all lost when she looked into his eyes – maybe that's why she ended up like this. Dead. I wonder if that will happen to me. Dead.

"Don't listen to a word I say anymore, okay?" he tells me. "I say random shit without thinking, and it just hurts every fucking person around me and it's just better not to listen to what I say at all. Rin Summer, I am a sad, sad boy, and I am fucked in the head from drinking so much shit and smoking so much shit, and so nothing I say is worth mulling over, because it's just not worth it."

I nod, glancing down at my wrist that he's holding firmly I'm worried the blood circulation is getting cut off. It's like he doesn't want me to leave.

"She came to me," he then starts out of the blue.

"Huh?"

Len stares up at me. "Miku came to me after she died, and she said to me, 'You look like shit.' And you know what?" He pauses, swallowing hard, banging his fist lightly against his thigh. He takes another drag of his cigarette. "I am an atheist. And you know what else? I was fucking high."

Then we kind of sit in a still silence for a while – me not knowing how to reply or what he means, and him… well, being Len: silent.

"I don't believe in ghosts," he continues eventually. "And never will. And neither do I believe in the afterlife – or any of that hopeless shit. Let's just say, when we die, we become nothing and nothing happens. That's what happened to Miku. That's what's going to happen to me. And probably everyone else. And I am as drunk as fuck."

Len throws his head back and laughs hysterically, moving his hand from my wrist to intertwine his fingers with mine. My heart starts to thrum in my chest, feeling his warm palm pressing up against my own.

When I don't say anything, he stops laughing and looks at me, smiling. "But you, Rin, are going to be some sort of fucking miracle angel or some shit. You won't be nothing like me or Miku, or Kaito – or even that Luka chick – or whatever."

I stare at him for a few moments, biting down on my lip. "But… you just said—"

"I believe you are an angel. The only angel," he interrupts, rolling his fag in between his fingers, squeezing my hand. Those baby blue eyes of his dance with amusement, mischief, as he watches me. "Pure and beautiful and perfect."

"How?" I ask, furrowing my eyebrows. "How can I be _pure and beautiful and perfect_? I'm none of those things. I'm not pure. I'm not beautiful. I'm not perfect. I don't understand what you're saying, Len."

He _knows_ I am not pure. He _knows_ I am not beautiful. He _knows_ that I have as many flaws as any human being possible – and just… _how?_ Why?

Len purses his lips. "Because you'll cry when I die. Because you don't make yourself up when you wake up. Because you admit your mistakes and seem hardly bothered by them, and you carry on without complaining like I do."

I stand there quietly. I don't understand. Why is Len suddenly… _doing_ this? Is he suffering from the heat of the moment? Is it the alcohol? Does he feel _guilty?_ It makes no sense. Len just… doesn't _act_ this way. Not usually.

"Because you are the only person who seems to _pester_ me and still come back after I shout shit at you. Because you have a heart that sees the _good_ in people, although they are all the way bad. Because you are pure and you are beautiful and you are perfect."

"You aren't _bad_ , Len," I reason. "You – I know you can be _good_. You are good. You mean well."

Len shakes his head, dragging on his cigarette. "If I were good, I would have asked you to be my girlfriend by now. I would have taken you on romantic, shitty dates to Italian restaurants on the riverside and held your hand on the walks past the lagoon. I would have hugged you every day. I would have kissed you all the time. I wouldn't shout at you. I would tell you I love you. I wouldn't be still caught up in this fucking depression and still thinking about Miku. I wouldn't be taking advantage of your feelings. But I am and I don't."

When I open my mouth to say something, he interrupts. "Don't argue with me, Rin. I know what I'm doing and I don't need you to pretend that I don't, and that all of this isn't breaking your heart when I know it _is_."

And because I know better, I fall back into my usual silence, staring down at my feet.

We stay like that for the rest of the afternoon, in a decaying silence, his hand holding onto mine.

* * *

there's two more wip scenes i wrote but they're kinda short and sad and i was never really sure whether i wanted to take that route in thsi story so ill leave them for now

rin is a whole lot luckier than me in this story oh well rip haha life sucks hahahah haahaha. haha. ah.

cries


End file.
